The Little Green Race Car
by Subtlynice
Summary: Six-year-old Charlie Swan contemplates the important things in life: his grandpa, his new green race car and brushing his teeth twice a day. Kid fic, friendship fluff, one-shot.


**A/N:** My angst-brain was at a standstill, and I needed a break from the complicated mind that is Edward Cullen's narrative. So I decided to write some sweet, short, pointless fluff from the point of view of a six-year-old Charlie Swan. If it seems simplistic and stupid, it's because I was doing my best to mimic a six-year-old's discussion. Believe it or not, the kids I teach to swim sound exactly like this.

**Disclaimer:** I sadly own nothing. Charlie Swan belongs to Stephenie Meyer, which is a shame because he is so fun to write, and I can't believe I've never written anything like this before.

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The Little Green Race Car

Charlie Swan liked his grandpa. His grandpa had recently brought him a brand new toy race car in his favourite colour – green. Charlie liked green, and he liked his new race car. But more than either of these, he liked his grandpa.

You see, his grandpa was a policeman. And that made him _cool_ because Grandpa Swan fought bad guys like murderers or people who didn't brush their teeth twice a day. Charlie's mother had been disappointed in him when he forgot to brush his teeth twice yesterday, and so now Charlie was alone on the beach, hiding because he had done something wrong and he was scared that Grandpa Swan would have to arrest him and take him to the police station in his big police car that lit up and made whooshing sounds. Charlie liked his grandpa's car. He sat on the wet sand and started making whooshing sounds with his new race car, pretending it was Grandpa Swan's police car and he was chasing after criminals – but not criminals who hadn't brushed their teeth properly, because Charlie hadn't done that either, and he didn't want to think about being arrested because that would be bad.

"Hello," said a voice from behind him, and Charlie jumped, hastily trying to hide the race car up his sleeve, because it was _his_ race car, and he didn't feel like sharing. He felt uneasy too, because he was hiding from his parents who were on the other side of the rocks, and hadn't noticed him slip away.

He turned and looked up at the person behind him. It was a boy. The boy looked a few years older than Charlie – maybe eight or nine or even _ten_. Charlie doubted he was ten though. Ten was really, really, really old and the older boys didn't like to play with Charlie much. They said he was too little to play with them, but Charlie was big for his age and ten-year-olds are smelly anyway.

But Charlie could tell that this boy was from the reservation, because his skin was darker than Charlie's and he had long hair. Charlie liked the boys on the reservation. They were nice and he hadn't ever seen any ten-year-olds on the beach. And when his grandpa took him on fishing trips, some of the La Push grandpas went too, and they were friends with Charlie's grandpa, so they were not bad guys and they probably always brushed their teeth twice a day.

"Hello," Charlie said to the older boy. "Can I play with you?"

The boy shrugged. "Okay," he said. "I want to play _Werewolves and Vampires_."

Charlie wrinkled his nose up in confusion. He didn't like mythical creatures because they were scary, and he'd never heard of that game before anyway. But he didn't want to upset his new friend, so he said, "How do you play that?"

His new friend grinned eagerly. "I'm a werewolf and you're a vampire, and I eat you because werewolves are cool, like fishing and cars!"

"I have a car," Charlie remembered, and feeling generous, he pulled the new toy out from his sleeve. "It's a race car and it's green. My grandpa got it for me and he's a policeman."

"_Cooool_!" The boy said, and the two of them sat down on the sand playing with Charlie's race car, all thoughts of playing _Werewolves and Vampires_ completely swiped from their heads.

"When I grow up, I want a big car like a truck or a lorry," the La Push boy announced as they played. "So then I can push all the silly cars out of my way because they're little and I'm big."

"I'm big," Charlie replied.

"No you're not," said his new friend. "You don't look nearly as big as me."

"Well I'm big for my age!" Charlie defended. "And I'm almost as big as the ten-year-olds in Forks because they think they're big, but Grandpa Swan says they'll grow into a bunch of hoola guns."

The La Push boy wrinkled his nose. "What are hoola guns?" He asked in confusion.

Charlie shrugged. "I don't know. But Grandpa Swan knows lots of interesting things because he's a policeman and he has a gun to shoot bad guys with. He's the chief policeman in Forks."

"I like Forks," the boy from the reservation said happily. "It's wet and green and it's near La Push which is here. And it's always raining."

"I like the rain," Charlie said enthusiastically. "It's sploshy and wet and it makes everything look shiny. And when it's too cold and wet, Daddy makes me stay inside and it's nice and snug."

"It's good for fishing, too," the older boy replied. "Because when you fish you need to find somewhere that's wet, because that's where the fish live."

Charlie thought about this for a moment, and then decided that his new friend was very clever for having thought of such a good reason for liking the rain. He would add it to his list of reasons why Forks was his very favourite place to live.

"I like Forks, too," Charlie said. "Forks is wet. And green. I like green. Dinosaurs are green- and race cars."

"Green isn't as good as red though," said the La Push boy. "Because red is the colour of fire engines and snakes and balloons."

"Fire engines are cool," Charlie said knowledgably. "But not as cool as police cars."

"You're right," agreed the boy. "Police cars are cool too. But policemen don't drive red trucks."

"When I grow up, I want to be a policeman like my grandpa," Charlie told the boy enthusiastically. "He's got a car that lights up and makes whooshing sounds, and he's the one who catches the bad guys on TV."

The older boy nodded in a bored way and then lobbed a stone out to sea, saying in a bland tone, "When I grow up, I want to be a wolf."

Charlie frowned. He was only six, but he did know some things. Like how you should never go to Italy on holiday, because it's too warm and it hardly ever rains. And that you should always brush your teeth twice a day, except on Dentist check-up days when you should give your teeth an _extra_ brush before walking out the door. And that police cars are cool because they light up and make whooshing sounds. And also that, under no circumstances, could a human boy turn into a wolf. It was just stupid.

"That's just stupid," Charlie told his new friend, sensibly. "You can't become a wolf. My grandpa's a policeman, and he says-"

"I don't care what _your_ grandpa says," the tall boy interrupted rudely. "My grandpa can turn into a wolf, he told me so at bedtime. And he says I'm going to follow in his footsteps because it's in my blood. And I _want_ to be a wolf, because they're hairy and scary and they have big teeth, so _there_."

Charlie picked up another pebble and stared at it angrily. He didn't like his new friend shouting at him. And he didn't like the idea of his friend turning into a wolf either. Wolves _were_ scary, and scary things were hunted down and locked up by policemen, because policemen were cool and wore impressive uniforms like the one his grandpa wore. But Charlie didn't like the idea of locking his new friend away very much, so rather than tell him any of this, he mumbled, "I'm Charlie."

"I'm Billy," the boy replied.

"I don't like wolves," Charlie told him.

"Why not?"

"Because… because…" Charlie trailed off miserably. He couldn't think of anything to say to Billy.

"I think you're scared," Billy said cleverly. "You're a scaredy-cat and that's why you don't want to become a wolf."

"I am not!" Charlie cried adamantly. He wasn't liking Billy much at all now.

"Are too," Billy retorted. "But that's okay, because you won't become a wolf. It's not in _your_ blood. And besides, there's no vampires around here yet because you didn't want to play."

Charlie didn't understand much of this, but he wanted to make himself seem more knowledgeable than Billy, so he copied his friend's earlier action and skipped a small pebble into the sea. Billy did the same, and for a while the two of them simply threw stones in silence.

"Sorry for yelling," Billy said suddenly. And then he asked, "Are you sure you don't want to play _Werewolves and Vampires_ with me?"

"No," Charlie said truthfully. He wasn't sure anymore. But Billy took it to mean that he didn't want to play.

"Do you want to meet my grandpa?"

Charlie thought about it. He liked grandpas. But then he remembered that his parents were on the other side of the beach and they would be angry with him for wandering off, so he shook his head and said, "My daddy's probably looking for me. I should go now."

"Okay," Billy said. He got up without another word, and walked away from Charlie, the way he had come, probably to go back to his own parents, or his grandpa perhaps.

"Billy?" Charlie called timidly, and his new friend paused, then pivoted around to face him.

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure you're going to be a wolf when you grow up?"

Billy frowned. "I don't know. Grandpa Black says I'll only be a wolf if someone cold comes to the beach, and no one wants to play _Werewolves and Vampires_ with me."

Billy looked so upset that Charlie couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. After all, Charlie knew that he would get to become a policeman. Grandpa Swan had said so, and Grandpa Swan was very knowledgeable about policemen.

"Are you sure you want a red car when you grow up?" He asked, an idea suddenly forming in his head.

Billy thought about it. "Probably," he said. "But your green race car is cool too. Sports are cool. I think I'd like a sports car as well."

"Sports _are_ cool!" Charlie agreed quickly. "Like baseball and football!"

"Yeah!"

Charlie grinned. He knew he'd made a good friend today.

"Billy…" Charlie began, holding out the race car he'd been given by his Grandpa Swan, "This is for you."

Billy's eyes widened and he took the race car carefully in his hands.

"Really?" He asked in awe.

"Yeah," Charlie said, feeling awkward. "Just in case you don't get to be a werewolf when you grow up."

Billy grinned happily. "I'll play with it every day!" He announced.

"And Billy?" Charlie asked shyly.

"Yeah?"

"I think I'd like to play _Werewolves and Vampires_ now."

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**A/N:** Bless him. Reviews, anyone? Charlie thinks reviews are cool like spaceships and policemen and the colour green.

And Billy's Grandpa is Ephraim Black. Ephraim technically wasn't supposed to tell Billy at such a young age about werewolves, but he's assuming Billy will think it's just a story.

The next chapter of Thy Beauty should be up soon! It's another long one... Edward and I both tend to ramble on for far too long.


End file.
